I'm with the Tour

Driver says, "You don't know where this bus is going to?"
Old man says, "I just want it to get me through
Hey, I'm staying on the ride, it's gonna take me somewhere"
Patty Griffin. "Stay on the Ride"

All right, No more tales of public transport woes. Yesterday we marched (all right, I stepped, dragged my leg, stepped, dragged my leg ...) to the Rialto Bridge. After looking at the ticket window for about five minutes, we finally decided that was where you get your tickets, went up and bought a VenicePass that lets you ride the water buses and get into museums.

The weather was as glorious as you could ask, so we decided to ride the water bus just to check out the sites along the Grand Canal. We didn't know where we were going, just doing a random tourist thing. Or at least that's what I assumed. It did strike me as funny, though, how we ended up with Linda studying the map and saying we should get off. Guess what, we were back where she first met her Italian heartthrob. I will chalk it up to coincidence. Besides, he wasn't anywhere to be found today.

The city is drop dead wonderful. Everyone knows so much about it from movies, but it really ends up not only fulfilling its promise but exceeding it. Linda noticed perhaps the most remarkable difference between Venice and any other city we have visited. Last night, around 9pm, we stood on the sidewalk and heard nothing but people. No cars, of course, no horns, no brakes, no sirens. Just this incredibly quiet beautiful city with only voices in the air. Some of our MANY pictures are here, but we both took lots more yesterday. When we get home, we may try to revive the slide shows people used to subject their friends to in the 50s.

OK. I will close by explaining the pictures at the top.

As you can see from her fairly good impression of Princess Leia with two of her three new scarves, Linda is continuing the Accessorize My World Tour 2008. Handbags, glasses, scarves, gloves. Who needs designer outfits when we have so many accessories to choose from?

And the top picture is one of several combos that were playing at outdoor restaurants around St Mark's Square. The instruments vary a little with each, but at their heart is the accordion. Finally, after 50 years of wondering what I could do with the musical skills I tried to learn as a kid, I have discovered a place that actually values them. And just in time, apparently. Once I converted the euros Linda spent on accessories to Aussie dollars, I decided I may just have to pull out the old squeezebox one last time.

Va bene.

Another Fine Mestre We Found Ourselves In

That's a view I had much of yesterday afternoon as we continued our grand tour of northern Italy. It is a tunnel beneath rail tracks that offers people the option of going left to Mestre or right to Marghera.

The problem with being in this tunnel is that we were trying to go straight ahead to Venice. The other problem was that we had already dragged all our luggage down there.

It's a relatively simple trip from Verona to Venice - no more than 75 minutes by train. Being the sort of people we are, though, Linda and I had decided the trip was lasting way too long and got off early.

Not that we really meant to do so. We thought we had arrived in Venice, but it really is the problem with not speaking the language - although I doubt that the Italians understood the muffled voices coming from the loudspeakers on the train.

I also have developed Kennedy's First Law of Train Travel: Just because most of the people in the car are getting off doesn't mean this is your stop.

So there we were, at first not even aware we were in the wrong city, but suspecting that there should be more choices than Mestre and Marghera. It didn't help that there were no elevators at the station, so we had to make a couple of trips down the steps to get all our bags down to the tunnel that we didn't want to be in in the first place.

To give full credit to Linda, she volunteered to go out of the tunnel and figure where we should go. It's full credit because at this moment, there was a terrible rainstorm. (The credit is somewhat diluted, though, by the fact that she realized that if I accompanied her we were likely to spend the night trying to get out of the tunnel.) Anyhow, I stayed, taking pictures of nothing until Linda returned to tell me that her new friend at the Avis outlet said we needed to lug the bags up the steps again and get on another train.

In fact Linda the Scout made so many extra trips up stairs and down corridors to see where we needed to go, that she can be said to have truly visited Mestre, whereas I never made it out of the tunnel. She assures me I didn't miss much.

I could fill in further details, such as the man half my size who saw me struggling and grabbed our biggest suitcases and jogged up to the top of the stairs with them for me. I could talk about holding up trains as we loaded and unloaded more luggage than the rest of the people in the cars combined. But I am getting tired of writing about how we don't cope well with local transportation. Trams, taxis, trains. No matter what it is, we seem to have a problem.

But in the end we always arrive, have a ready-made excuse to go to the bar asap, and sleep really, really well that night. We are leaving the room now to see Venice in the daytime. Pix with the next post.

Venice It Going to End?

We arrived at Venice in, shall we say, a way we had not planned when we set out this morning. Linda says everyone needs to have a train story to tell, and I guess this is the story we now have to tell.

Ordinarily I would be recounting our misadventure in the blog, but something even more interesting happened when we finally did get to Venice. We boarded this boat with our luggage to take us to our hotel, and halfway there Linda said to me - obviously forgetting I was her husband - "Isn't the guy driving the boat the most gorgeous man you've ever seen?"

I post the picture above to let you decide, but suffice it to say that the vote was tied by the time we got to the hotel.

I am somewhat used to this. Linda doesn't fall for too many types (or at least not so overtly that she lets me know) but she does have an incredibly soft spot for Italians. Her first heartthrob - at least in my time with her - was Frank Langella, especially after he had just done Dracula as the sort of guy who most women wouldn't mind sucking their necks.

Then the serious hots set in with Dennis Farina. He was in Cop Story and quite a few movies, and every time he was on screen Linda went, shall we say, just a little bit girly. Then he got the lead role on Law and Order when Jerry Orbach died. He was horrible and the show went south, but Linda never noticed. Although I think even she thought he was wearing thin as she kept commenting primarily on his cashmere coat and scarves.

But now it's the guy driving us to the hotel. When will it end?

God - we're in Italy for more than a week. How can I compete? Somehow I just don't think making her laugh and giving her great back rubs can compete with whatever it is that drives this lady of mine completely round the bend when she sees these Italian specimens.

More on Venice and the trip here tomorrow. For now, I need to think. Buena notte.

Arrividerci Verona

Just a quick post as we get ready to pack up and catch the train to Venice.

We spent yesterday afternoon in Verona, and some of the pictures are here.

Verona is a nice place, very old with plenty of ruins and yet plenty of modern shops. You can guess how that shakes out between Linda and me. The Arena dominates the center of town. It is the third largest amphitheatre in the world, and must have been even higher on the list at one point since it was built before the Roman Colisseum.

The stadium is so big that in its day it could actually hold every citizen of Verona, which would have given the local lads a tremendous home field advantage when the gladiators from Tuscany came in for a match.

The other pictures will show you a market that has reportedly been operating for centuries. And some of the things on sale there would probably prove that.

Just down the street is the building where tourists can see Juliet's balcony. The guide book took all of the fun out of this by pointing out that the building is not the Capulet's grand home but a refurbished 13th-century tavern. Doesn't matter, people flock to the spot and the walls are crammed with the names of loving couples either in graffiti or on what look suspiciously like PostIt notes. The last two pictures of in the album (one of which is at the top of this post) show these walls and if you look really carefully you will see "Linda and Don" just to the left of "Adrian and Rocky" and below "Tom and Nicole". I told you this was an old place.

Anyhow, on to Venice.

If It Ain't Neo-baroque, Don't Neo-fix It

That's me in our hotel outside Verona. And Linda swears that reflection from the camera flash was pure accident.

Anyhow, this place is called the Byblos Art Hotel, and it is one of the most interesting buildings I have ever been in. I think it comes close to being more interesting than Verona itself.

The hotel used to be Villa Amista, a 15th-century Italian villa, and there are lots of things about it that show its ancient heritage. The villa was abandoned after World War II and it was only about six years ago that a group decided to rebuild it and turn it into a hotel. To be exact, an art hotel.

It's owned by this modern art collector. He is obviously a wealthy art collector because he has used only a small part of his collection to decorate the hotel. He is also a T&A man, because I have never seen so many naked bits of women hanging on the walls of a hotel.

You can walk from the front door to our room and see about sixteen pairs of boobs in a variety of paintings, statues and photos. There are so many, I thought the guy might be starting a new hotel chain called Breast Western.

But it isn't just the topless thing. There's plenty of bottom to go around, too. In fact I don't think the Texas White House has as many pictures of bush on the walls as this place. Last night we were seated in the dining room under a photograph of about 20 naked and nearly naked women sitting at a table eating oranges. I am no art critic, but I think we were supposed to draw some connection between taking the peels off or something. I am also pretty sure Linda didn't buy it for a moment when I said to her, "Isn't it interesting how their faces are the things you notice the most?"

The one good thing is that Linda picked the place, so I don't have to think up excuses as to why I chose to stay here. And in fact, I would have to say that the overall effect is quite magical. On the outside the place looks so traditional and classical - until you notice the decorations on the staircase. But once inside, the lobby is an amazing thing to behold. It really does delight, and every room carries on that theme. And there's much much more here than just the nudes.

The people in the hotel are all fond of telling visitors that each room was designed by Alessandro Mendini, and he is a master of a style called neo-baroque. I think that means, funky furniture, lots of primary colors, bright, gaudy chandeliers and lots of T&A. Lots. But as I say, it is great fun to be in this place, and we will remember it fondly.

I've put some pictures up on Shutterfly, and you can check them out here. You can also go to their site, http://www.byblosarthotel.com/ and go to the art section and check out the pieces. We have a very slow connection so I am going to wait to upload our Verona pictures when we're in Venice tomorrow. Verona is a really nice place, and I will write some more about that then, too. (Also, it's really hard checking the links to the pictures here, so if they aren't correct I will fix them tomorrow.)

But I have two tidbits (writing in this hotel, I nearly used the older spelling of titbits) that I don't want to let go, so consider these as a pair of postscripts.

PS: I was still struggling with a bum knee and worried about injuring it getting our luggage off the train when we arrived in Verona. There were these two men waiting to get on - turns out they were Texans - and when they saw my problem, they jumped right up and took over, taking our bags down before they climbed aboard. I can genuinely call them Two Gentlemen in Verona.

PPS: I originally asked Linda to pose with that picture at the top of this post. She looked at it and said, "No way. I know something like that will end up on the Internet." Since this blog is really about retirement and not travel, I find it worth noting that I later decided to ask her to take my picture and then I made sure it got on the Internet myself. See how your concerns change when you don't work anymore?

One Small Step for Man

I thought I would record for posterity Linda making her first purchase in Milan, the fashion capital of the world. Surprisingly, it was for a pair of gloves and a scarf - absolute essentials in Sydney's climate. Most surprisingly, she has done very little other shopping here. About the only thing she bought besides the gloves was a handbag, which now makes two for the trip (the first was in Lisbon).

I am starting to think that Linda thinks she has enough clothes to pretty much take her into that age when other people have to dress her and just choose the loosest thing they can find. So instead, in the past few years she has been accessorising. She has more handbags than the pope has rings, but still she approaches them with a gusto formerly reserved for blazers in neutral colors made of natural fibers.

Milan has been a bit of a bummer. I have done something to my right knee and it has severely impaired my walking. Yesterday we only walked a bit before I called it a day and by last night I was seriously contemplating a visit to the emergency room.

But this morning I could at least move forward without yelping, although I sighed enough for Linda to lose all sympathy and become annoyed. Anyhow, faced with not seeing much in this city or watching my knee balloon up like, well, a balloon, I decided to push it a bit today.

It was baby steps most of the way to the Duomo. Then occasionally I would start to feel I was bulletproof and take some normal strides. Then I would feel a sharp stabbing in my knee, yelp appropriately, hobble, whimper, rest and resume baby steps.

Anyhow, I did manage to shuffle to the Duomo and it was worth it. It is one of the grandest churches I have ever seen. All these gothic spires and of a size that I wouldn't go in it had it been built today by lowest priced contractors.

The leg has cut into much more sightseeing, but I think the fashion shops are pretty much the ticket here, so I am not too unhappy. The hotel we are staying at has been really nice and their kitchen is fantastic. They operate on the premise that if you don't order a starter, they pick one and give it to you anyway because they want you to have a good meal. Love the Italians.

Tomorrow we take the train to Verona, home of Romeo and Juliet - or at least the guy who wrote the first version of the story. You can see some of our pictures from Milan by clicking here, and they mostly show the Duomo, the plaza around it, the hotel, the street where our hotel is and some of the cuter dogs that you see everywhere around here. Ciao.

You Talking to Me?

Buon giorno. We arrived last night in Milan.

Linda chose this part of our trip, and I know very little about it. It did seem to me that all I noticed last night were lots - and lots and lots - of high fashion shops. When I asked her what there is here that I may be interested in, she told me that there's a very big church not far from the hotel.

That sounds like a fair trade to me. One more old church for me and dozens more new stores for Linda.

Getting here last night was, well, it was interesting. We had an uneventful flight in from Lisbon and then met the taxi driver from hell, Milan's own latter day version of Travis Bickle. I will call him Traviso.

Our fun started when we walked to the car. We are not overloaded with luggage this trip. Two regular sized suitcases and two small totes. Traviso, however, thought it would be more interesting to become a professional taxi driver if he bought a car that could comfortably fit inside an SUV.

Traviso struggled with our luggage, grunting, shoving, muttering some Milanese curse under his breath. I took the carry-on bags and moved to put them in the front seat. No! Traviso barked, racing to place the bags there himself.

OK, so Trav has a small car and is a bit funny about passengers loading their own bags. If that was all, no big deal. Unfortunately, that wasn't all.

The Milan airport is quite a distance from the city itself. So much so, in fact, that the taxi fare was greater than the airfare from Lisbon. Had we known, we would have simply bought parachutes and got out during landing.

Traviso obviously was in no mood for such a long trip, although I cannot imagine what other trips he would expect when he parks in the taxi rank at the Milan Airport. Anyhow, I can accurately report that the airplane had travelled somewhat faster than the taxi did, but only marginally. And at least the airplane had set aside a room where you can pee.

One of the benefits of having been brought up on the old Imperial system is that I still have to calculate what the metric means. So there is actually a period of calm between seeing 180 k/hr on the speedometer and figuring out that means we're cruising down the highway at over 110 miles per. At least I now understood why no one was passing us.

Once in Milan, Traviso proved particularly adept at cutting between lanes, nearly running down bicyclists and pedestrians and, in one stunning maneuvre, making the whole car vibrate as the wheels rubbed against the trolley tracks for a block or two.

Anyhow, we finally got to the hotel and unloaded the baggage. Mind you, it wasn't our hotel and when the bellman told us we weren't far from the one we had booked, Linda and I had to decide whether to drag our bags or force Traviso to put them back in the car and drive us to the right hotel.

It wasn't much of a decision. If he hadn't killed us already, he wasn't likely to for a few more blocks. And watching him reload the luggage (grunt, shove, mumble, curse) seemed the least we could do. Actually it was the least since we made him pay for his error by not paying any more for the last few blocks.

Down to breakfast now. Then the old church. Not sure what else I can do after that to keep Linda out of the shops. Maybe lots of discussion at breakfast about the world's credit crisis.